


Just Once

by cherryburlesque



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies), Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, This turned out sadder than I expected
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-11 00:43:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13513185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryburlesque/pseuds/cherryburlesque
Summary: Jack finds himself a wish, and Hiccup has a shadow.He usually stuck around the Bog-Burglars, because they were often the tribe most likely to share a tale or two about Old Man Winter, but once or twice he ventured away, poking around the other tribes of the Archipelagos just to see how a small scrap of ocean might change a tribes customs.It was on one of these ventures across the ocean that Jack’s entire world turned upside down in the space of a single night.He’d expected the dragons.He hadn’t expected the gangly, haphazard disaster that barrelled his way into his life.





	Just Once

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sagesins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sagesins/gifts).



> Written as a gift for [sage's](http://sagesins.tumblr.com/) birthday last week! His prompt: Hijack, pining. And...well, it turned out angstier than I'd intended. Whoops.
> 
> Happy birthday sage.

There were certain parts of the world that Jack tended to visit more often than others, often for different reasons. Some were because he liked the landscape, and enjoyed the serenity of a place away from civilisation where he was free to let his blizzards loose. Some were because he liked the people, in their little towns and villages, watching them skate on ice freshly frozen and go to startlingly clever lengths to keep themselves warm. Some were because it was an absolute novelty to be freezing cold at the exact opposite time of the year that it was for him where he was born. Some because he just liked watching.

At least, that’s what he told himself. No one ever really believed that following someone for years on end could constitute ‘just watching’, but that’s what Jack called it. His interests were enthralling people, even without the small little spark of brilliance among them that drew him in like a spark. He didn’t care whether he was fooling anyone. He never had before now.  

The Archipelagos was one of the many places Jack enjoyed visiting. The people there were contrary and boisterous, with a sense of humour that rivalled his own on most occasions. But they were also warlike and bull-headed, and Jack often had a marvellous time freezing over their well just to see them grouse and grumble and pick away at it again, for the fifth time that day out of sheer stubbornness.

The fact that they had an almost never ending winter helped.

Jack sifted through those islands often, bringing snow and deep freeze in his wake, and he sat up late in the evenings with the old chiefs who told stories to the youngsters about him. Some of them might spot him and cause a ruckus, leaving Jack cackling delightedly as he sped away from the island on the winds, but usually he was able to enjoy them on the sly  without worry that he’d be caught and strung apart for invading the warriors territory.

Vikings, they called themselves.

He usually stuck around the Bog-Burglars, because they were often the tribe most likely to share a tale or two about Old Man Winter (not that he particularly approved of that name), and were so pragmatic that they were _least_ likely to spot him hovering. But once or twice he ventured away, poking around the other tribes of the Archipelagos just to see how a small scrap of ocean might change a tribes customs.

It was on one of these ventures across the ocean that Jack’s entire world turned upside down in the space of a single night.

He’d expected the dragons.

He _hadn’t_ expected the gangly, haphazard disaster that barrelled his way into his life.

Jack first spotted him on the night of a particularly nasty battle, when the dragons had attacked viciously and destroyed half the village’s winter feed. He’d been watching the stores burn and mentally reminded himself to go easy on this particular tribe this winter, when said gangly disaster burst from the forge and took off into the darkness.

At first, Jack was curious. He’d followed him, lazily drifting overhead while the kid (though he couldn’t have been much younger than Jack) pushed a ridiculous looking contraption away from the light of the fires. Grew interested when he had apparently been successful in his shot, then had shreds torn off him by the tribes leader for his antics. Then found himself intrigued when the kid immediately broke out of his apparent exile and bolted into the woods.

The first time Jack had seen the boy up close, he’d set free a dragon.

From then on, Jack was enamoured.

The boy—Hiccup, he eventually learned—was the absolute opposite of everything that constituted a good Viking. He was small, gangly, no good wielding weapons, and apparently used his brain more than his brawn, unlike almost every other member of his tribe save for a select few. But he also had a sharp humour that was dry as a bone, resilience bordering on the stubborn even for his people, and an intense desire to explore and learn that Jack hadn’t witnessed in anyone since he’d first came to be.

And he was overlooked by everyone around him.

He struck chords with Jack, reminding him painfully of himself. For weeks, Jack ended up trailing him, watching in awe and delight as Hiccup bonded with his once-captive dragon, taught them both how to fly, rose to great heights only to plunge to horrific depths and ended up saving his entire village. For weeks, Jack remained infatuated, almost forgetting his wintery pranks and jokes in favour of watching the young hero get back on his feet. Foot.

But duty called, as it always did, and Jack had to go.

The Guardians were interested, as they always were. But they were never quite there with Jack and his stories. They remained grounded in their work, dedicated to the point of absurdity in their tasks, that their time for Jack was always just a little bit limited. Not that he overly minded really, because that was their calling. But sometimes he thought it would be nice to have someone as interested as he was in the gangly disaster of Berk.

So they listened, but they didn’t really understand why Jack was so fascinated by this boy and his astronomically powerful dragon. The story of a kid who saved his village and turned the opinions of everyone in it wasn’t exactly news worthy to them, when they had lived for centuries and had seen everything from famine to miracles. It was one of the many reasons Jack found he never quite meshed with them. Aside from being comparatively young, his idea of wonder and delight just didn’t match up with the rest of the Guardians—not even North, who was familiar with the Vikings himself from their annual Snoggletog festivities.

They did their tasks, protecting the children of the world and spreading their hope, joy and wonder, and once they were done they parted ways again for another few centuries, focused on their work and paying attention to little else.

And Jack wandered the world chasing the winter once again.

He returned to the Archipelagos, bringing with him blizzards and icy winds, not at all concerned about making a beeline straight for Hiccup’s home.

Even in the short time Jack had been gone, Hiccup had seemed to hit a growth spurt. Where before he only reached as tall as his father’s elbow, now he was at _least_ a good few inches half way up his upper arm. It was clear he was happier too, eyes brighter and his dry laugh more prevalent each day. He was walking well again, no trace of a limp anymore, and his dragon was now a fixture in his house like an old woman’s pet cat.

In the months following the fight with the dragon the Vikings called ‘Red Death’, Hiccup had taken to wandering by himself in the woods surrounding the island. His limp was prominent then, the pain in his grit teeth clear, but he carried on recklessly as he always did, refusing to even allow himself a stick to lean on. They were aimless wanderings with no apparent goal in mind, but Hiccup always seemed dejected in the end; like he’d been hoping for something that hadn’t yet come to fruition.

Jack accompanied him on those wanderings, sending him little gusts and flurries of wind, having a one sided conversation and offering Hiccup encouragement when it almost became too much.

The wanderings stopped eventually, when new threats rose on the horizon.

And Jack continued to follow him as ever, while he learned his place in the world and carried on even more outrageous acts of bravery. Celebrated with him when he found his mother, and mourned with him when he lost his father. Applauded when he earnt his role as chief, and watched closely at the delicate way he formed alliances, choosing peace and conversation over acts of aggression or shows of force. Hiccup was in every sense of the word a pacifist, and Jack couldn’t get him out of his mind.

Toothiana called it love. Bunnymund called it creepy. North said it was endearing, but warned Jack in his kindly voice to be gentle with his own heart, because every wound left a scar behind, and once a heart became too scarred it shattered. And not even North with all of his wonders of engineering could repair a broken heart.

He tried to take the advice into account. But no matter how he tried, the winter winds always carried him straight back to Berk, to watch his brilliant Viking dork his way through life.

**

“Do you ever get the feeling you’re being watched?”

Toothless just snuffed, making a noise like he thought Hiccup was being melodramatic. Beside them both, Astrid gave him a flat look, which Jack had taken to understand as her ‘are you for real’ expression.

They were lingering by a cliff face overlooking the slate grey sea, the distant shadows of other tribe lands visible on the horizon. Toothless was curled behind them, both Vikings leaning against his warm hide, and Hiccup was drawing idly in the rough dirt with a stick that looked amusingly like Jack’s staff.

“I’m serious,” Hiccup said emphatically. “It’s weird. It’s been happening for a while now, like the hair on my neck stands up and I can feel someone’s eyes on me. But wherever I look I can’t see anything.”

“I think you’re losing your mind,” Astrid replied with a smirk. “Are you sure dragon nip doesn’t affect you too?”

“Oh c’mon,” Hiccup rolled his eyes. “Look, sometimes I even see something too. It’s hard to pinpoint, but it’s like…there’s this thing, or someone, lingering just outside my side vision, and when I go to look they’re not there.”

Jack stared, breath tight in his chest while he listened to Hiccup talk. While it was true, Hiccup _couldn’t_ see Jack, the mere thought that sometimes he might was enough to send him reeling. His mind went into overdrive, imagining all sorts of scenarios where Jack strode confidently out of the trees and Hiccup was swept away in mind blowing awe, and everyone around them cheered while Jack was lost in a Viking’s hold.

“I wouldn’t think too much on it,” Astrid said as she stood and brushed her skirt off. “You’ve got more important things to worry about than something in your side vision. Come on, they’ll be waiting for you in the training ring.”

Jack watched them leave with a dull ache in his chest.

**

Hiccup still liked being alone. In fact, ever since he’d become Chief of the Hooligans, he tended to sneak away from the village almost as often as he had when he’d first befriended Toothless, wandering into the old clearing that had been the dragons home so long ago.

Jack watched him go, curious about his moods when he wandered into that place. It was like he needed to escape the pressures of his life, just to find some time to sit in the quiet. Sometimes he’d bring Toothless with him, sometimes not.

This time, he didn’t. He took his time, picking his way through the overgrown track, while Jack coasted lazily overhead. A tiny breeze trailed in his wake, bringing with it the promise of snow.

The clearing was as serene as it had been the first time Jack had seen it, though the lake in the middle was frozen at this time of year. Jack drifted down towards it, his feet sending patterns coasting across the ice like tiny leaves made of diamonds. He didn’t need to watch to know Hiccup was making his way down the little tunnel—the old shield that he’d never quite managed to dislodge still stuck in the entrance.

“I know you’re there.”

The words startled Jack so much that he almost slipped over, saved only by the wind at his back keeping him upright. He turned, staring at Hiccup with wide, hopeful eyes, but felt disappointment in his gut when he realised the Viking was looking several feet to the right of where he stood.

His expression was as stubborn as ever though, and Jack had to resist the urge to approach him just to try and smooth the crease in his brow.

“Do you?” Jack asked, unable to hide the hopeful edge in his voice.

Hiccup didn’t answer.

Silence hung heavy for a time, and Jack turned away again while Hiccup made his way properly into the clearing. He felt like he was being suffocated—even worse than when he truly had. Like something had clamped down onto his chest and he couldn’t get free of it, until he had to turn and make his way back to Hiccup once again.

“I can’t explain it,” Hiccup muttered once Jack got close. “I can’t see you. I’ve never been able to. But I know you’re there. You’ve always been there, for as long as I can remember. And—“he laughed cynically, shaking his head, “it’s funny. Ever since my Dad died, I’ve noticed you even more. Like there’s some kind of spirit following me around everywhere I go, keeping an eye on me.”

“I’m not keeping an eye on you,” Jack huffed. It was clear that despite the fact Hiccup was talking to him, he was neither seen nor heard right now. But he spoke anyway, as if answering would somehow close the chasm that still yawned between them. “I’m…uh…”

But everything he could say in its place just sounded creepy, or pathetic, just as Bunnymund had told him it was. So he let the sentence die with a slump of his shoulders, and moved to sit down across from Hiccup, knees drawn up into the crook of his elbows.

“I don’t know who you are, or why you’ve been following me all this time,” Hiccup continued. “But it’s…okay.”

Jack furrowed a brow. “What is that even supposed to mean?”

“It’s funny, I guess I just got so used to it that it stopped bothering me. And then I started looking for you when I got older, thinking that maybe you’d appear.” Jack’s mind was suddenly thrown back to the strange, seemingly random trips Hiccup made around the island not long after the fight with the Red Death. “I tried everything, but it never worked. Maybe I’m just losing my mind. Astrid said I am. Who’d think otherwise? I’m sitting here in a clearing talking to nothing. I guess I just…wish I could. Just once.”

Silence fell in the clearing, thick and heavy; it lay over them like a shroud, and not even Jack could break it this time. He stared at Hiccup with his heart in his throat, and a desperate longing bubbling up in him that he hadn’t felt for centuries. It threatened to choke him, and he leaned forward in a futile effort to lay his hand on Hiccup’s shoulder, nearly having to suppress a sob when it passed right through—as it always did.

This was his curse, wasn’t it? The curse for whatever terrible thing he must have done when he was alive. Because no one should have to go through such pain and longing—no one should have to feel their own heart claw its way out of their chest because they could never, ever have the only thing they ever truly wanted. More than being seen, more than knowing what his purpose in the world was, in this moment, Jack only wanted the simple gift of touch, to let Hiccup know that he was there. That he could hear him. That he could see him.

Just once.

But that would never happen. No matter how Jack wished or dreamed or despaired, it would never happen. He couldn’t allow himself to even hope that it would, because it had already been so long already, and he was tired of hoping. All he could do was trail along behind Hiccup as he walked through is life, an ever present shadow that knew him better than any spouse ever could, silently waiting for the day that the side glance over one shoulder might be Hiccup finally laying eyes on him.

“One day, Hiccup,” Jack finally whispered into the cold air. “You’ll know who I am one day.”

He did the only thing he could do while they waited for that day, and summoned a gentle flurry of wind to wrap around Hiccup like a blanket, ruffling his hair affectionately. The Viking smiled softly as though he could feel Jack’s affection in the very breeze, and drew his cloak around himself.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](http://sheikofthesheikah.tumblr.com). I'm a slut for fic requests.


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